I never meant to lie. During the final interview, when they asked about my previous salary, I panicked. I inflated the number by 30%, thinking it would boost my offer. It worked—too well. They offered me more than I’d ever imagined, and I accepted with a smile that masked my guilt. At first, I felt triumphant. I’d finally broken through the ceiling that had held me back for years.
But the thrill faded fast. Every time HR mentioned audits or background checks, my stomach dropped. I started obsessively Googling “Can employers verify past salaries?” and rehearsing excuses in case they confronted me. I even considered calling my old company to ask them not to disclose anything. The fear became constant, gnawing at me during meetings, lunches, even weekends.
I began overcompensating—working late, volunteering for extra tasks, trying to prove I was worth every cent. But the pressure was unbearable. I wasn’t sleeping. I’d wake up at 3 a.m. imagining being fired, humiliated, exposed. My performance started slipping, ironically making me look less deserving of the inflated salary I’d fought so hard to get.
One day, my manager casually mentioned reaching out to my former employer for a reference. I froze. I excused myself, locked myself in the bathroom, and cried. That was the moment I realized I couldn’t live like this. The lie had metastasized, infecting every part of my life. I wasn’t proud of the money—I was terrified of it.
I finally confessed to HR. I told them I’d exaggerated my salary out of desperation, not deceit. I expected termination. Instead, they thanked me for my honesty. They adjusted my pay slightly but kept me on. The relief was overwhelming. I could breathe again, work again, live again. The truth, as it turns out, was worth more than the lie.
Now, I tell everyone: don’t lie in interviews. Not about salary, not about anything. The short-term gain isn’t worth the long-term fear. Integrity isn’t just a virtue—it’s a survival skill. I learned that the hard way, but I’m grateful I did.
